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Story:Alto/Chapter 10
Although battle raged on behind them, neither Delta nor Garland had any care for the world outside of their silent standoff. Both knew the true nature of the other. Each understood the goals of their opponent. "Delta, was it?" Garland asked, resting his sword on his shoulder. His stance was wide, almost arrogantly exposed. As if he felt truly invincible. "Are you even human?" Delta asked in response. His hand was tense and contorted, mimicking a claw, as flame was drawn to it. The fire made a burning club in his hand that jet out from his palm. "No." A simple answer to a question that should be far from simple. "But you already knew that, didn't you?" Delta nodded, but gave no verbal answer. The only secrets left between them was a name and an origin. Questions nobody would ask -- answers nobody would give. "Do you think we should give ourselves some privacy?" Garland asked, watching as Barbarus and Clyde took their machismo further into town. Delta crossed his arms, dragging the flame through the air and gripping it with his other hand. Both hands threw embers into the air, making a ring of fire around them. "Let's finish what we started." Delta's voice was firm, more commanding than it had ever been, but just as quiet and soft as before. A wave of fire was pulled from the burning walls around them. The same clawed grip as before. It chased Garland along the ground, erupting into flame upon his armor. And from that flame charged forth an iron giant. Again that massive sword was coming down on him, except this time Delta knew to expect it. His other hand touched his leg, and the side of the foot was driven into the ground. From beneath his heel an earthen spike drove up into Garland's body. Metal screeched and the blade was thrown off its mark. Garland and Delta were face to face, mask to mask, close enough to see each other's eyes. One burning with righteous anger and the other entirely devoid of emotion. The flat of the blade slammed into Delta's legs. Already unbalanced, having to keep his foot on its side to focus his magic, Delta was knocked prone. The edge dragged against the side of his leg, making uneven scrapes and marks on both clothes and flesh. As the blade came down, earth rose in a panicked shield. The sword was caught, but this couldn't have slowed his attacker less Thump. Thump. Thump. The barrier wouldn't hold. There wasn't any time to think. Two sigils for earth laid in his hands. "Fusion Art: Stone." With both hands pressed against his earthen wall it shattered. A metal fist came through before countless debris pelted the knight, knocking him away with force in numbers. Though Garland regained his sword there was now distance. Metal creaked as both stood up, giving each a precious moment to think. A moment that would be interrupted as one of the crystalline monsters jumped through flame. If he wasn't already twitchy and on edge Delta would have died then and there. Delta reached out and pulled the flames towards him, engulfing the monster he narrowly steps past, before pushing a gust of wind out from his palm. The burning interloper went crashing into Garland, though this wouldn't knock the knight off balance. But with fire and wind, perhaps something else could. "Fusion Art: Lightning." With that electricity, the thing Grigori has spent months watching Kevor try to perfect when not wearing the mask, shot from his hands. It met metal. Coated it. Surrounded the knight in pulsating agony. What felt like an hour of panic was now leaving his body, and time started to make sense once more. The knight dropped to its knees, then flat on the ground. All Delta could do was breathe. Only now did he have the chance to look around at what he caused. Fire, death, suffering. "Did it work, Grigori?" A voice called. The masked man turned and all he could see was the length of a straight blade. All he could hear was a loud crack. The mask broke and fell. Delta was no more. "Is this what you wanted?" Ryo asked. His injuries were still there, but he was emitting a white glow. It shone brightest in his eyes. "Or are you but another Demon believing itself to be an Angel? Mistaking Hellfire for Divine Intervention?" "This…" Grigori's voice faltered. He could feel more eyes upon him. As he stepped back the blade slashed down at his side. It was as if Ryo closed that three foot gap in a matter of seconds. "If you truly see yourself worthy of Salvation," Ryo's words were barely more than a whisper. "Seek Forgiveness in the center of town." Again time slowed to a crawl. If someone had told either that they were only face to face for mere moments neither would believe it. Grigori's courage had vanished with his mask, only making desperate escapes from the blade's wild cuts. Slash up, step back. Slash left, step back. Thrust forward, turn. And sound of shattering crystal can be heard from behind. In their fighting Grigori had almost forgotten about their shared enemy. Ryo stepped forward to cover Grigori’s back. His sword was pulled back, the tip presented. His stance wide. An arm covered his midsection. Words were whispered again. “But first, prove yourself. Are you a Savior or a Destroyer?” Grigori knew words wouldn’t make for a sufficient answer. He knew there wasn’t time to think. This was his mess to clean up. Flame was drawn to his hand just as before. They both looked at the crystalline beasts. For just one moment, all was still. Grigori held out his other hand, extending two fingers while the rest of his hand gripped some invisible object. He pulled his hand towards him and flames doused the monsters standing in their way. As they were descended upon, both swung their blades, Ryo in a quick flash of white, and Grigori in a wide sweep of fire. They stepped in turn, switching places. Ryo’s sword danced over head before slashing again, while Grigori turned and swept his arm in a wide arc behind him. It was a strange feeling, both of them being in sync. Something Grigori later thought about once he had found himself in a place where he could think. But at that moment all either could focus on was steel, crystal, and fire. “You lit this town ablaze, and yet you use that same fire as a weapon against your allies?” Ryo’s questions hurt Grigori’s focus. How could he think? How could he speak? Within this chaos Grigori had begun losing track of his own actions, let alone the rest of the world. Conscious actions grew more and more uncommon. The hand holding flame acted upon its own as the heat of battle overtook him, only his other hand remained under his control. Rocks raised from the ground as his other hand punched upwards. “And yet you cause more Destruction to stop your initial reign of terror? Break our roads and fields to send back your minions?” Ryo’s words pierced Grigori just as his blade pierced the dolls that attacked them both. Everything was coming to a head. All his underlying fears and worries. Death, and destruction. Was he the source of his own fears? Had his paranoia given birth to a self-fulfilling prophecy? Was this his punishment for not putting faith in others? Was he their punishment for a naive belief in isolated safety? Had he wasted these past few months? What? Why? How? With that, flame surrounded him. The dolls, those abhorrent monstrosities, were consumed in fire. But so much was consumed by his mental break. Only from his strange glow did Ryo seem unharmed, but he was brought to the ground by the impact. Grigori didn’t remember speaking the words or guiding the flames. “This is your Answer.” Ryo looked up at Grigori, propping himself up on one elbow as his light flickered. A silent conversation was shared between them, imminent threats, before Grigori remembered what was said before. If he truly saw himself worthy of salvation, seek forgiveness in the center of town. He could only be thinking about the tower. Yet, his body wouldn’t move. Ryo’s light grew again. He grabbed his sword and stood, pointing it at Grigori. “If you see yourself as Forsaken, stand still as I fell you with my blade. If you see yourself as Redeemable, run! Run as fast as you can! Seek forgiveness and atone for your sins.” As Ryo spoke, Grigori did not recognize the voice he heard. He could hear another speaking through the body of his friend. There was no doubt that his light came from this other being, this being that Grigori could only fear. But he ran. He was not the villain. He could only hope that he’d reemerge into town, able to see his friends again without the mask. *** The masked magician Delta died on that fateful day. Though he and Grigori were one in the same, they had become two separate entities to the outside world. It was their shared wish that Grigori would not die with him.